could a depressed person make this?

kinetic energy

Eddie always allotted for at least twenty minutes when returning Tony’s tools.

He really thinks it shouldn’t be more than three, but somehow, it never is. Because no matter what time of day, Tony loved to talk. Loved to clap Eddie on the arm and ask him about repairs, or about what new cocktails Volt had added to the seasonal menu. Nowadays, there can be a new topic of conversation that Eddie greatly dislikes: how often the homeowner has been coming around to Open Spotlights, and staying until the door locked behind the other patrons. 

It’s no secret, really, the addition of the little live wire in Eddie and Volt’s relationship, though nothing was ever explicitly said or announced. But everyone noticed the way Volt’s face shined on the stage when he threw a wink to a certain VIP table, or the ease that Eddie now walked with, how many more hours he spent behind the bar. The ice in his steel gaze had melted, if only when it rested on the human while they sipped on a whiskey sour, just for a few seconds. 

Tony wanted to know everything, though, as Eddie stood there with a power drill and hammer in his hands. Despite the fact that the walk to the toolbox took hardly any time at all, this always happened - a one sided conversation, lighthearted questions to Eddie, and not one offer to take the tools he was trying so hard to return.

Eddie’s a little antsy about it this afternoon. The club hasn’t opened yet, and he’d left their spark with Volt on the barstools. He expects that he’ll have to clean them, again, when he gets back. 

Volt really likes to think he’s getting away with something when he slips his hands under their darling’s shirt or plants a kiss to their neck behind the wood of the Breaker Box bar. He knows all the little ways he can work around Eddie’s rule, toe the line until it blurs. But Eddie knows all of them too, knew them before Volt even sparked into existence, and their new addition was still learning. So Eddie’s letting them play, to a certain extent, letting them savor how they think their illicit trysts go unnoticed. It’s fun for him too when later, in bed with Volt, all he has to do is touch his partner’s chest and know everything that he felt when they were apart.

But still. His fingers itch. He wants to drop the tools and run and find buzzing skin, cool skin, that’s pliant under his touch. Every minute away from them, he feels a pull, a wire, stretching tauter and tauter, and if he doesn’t leave soon, it will snap.

“I mean and I’m saying,” Tony is blabbering, running a hand through his hair, “that maybe you outta have a few more VIP tables, ya know?”

Eddie, actually, does not know.

“Right,” he grumbles, and shoves the tools out in front of him. “Anyway. I’ve really gotta get back. Thanks, again.”

Tony only grins, oblivious to Eddie’s twitching fingers. “Ah, anytime Eds! Anytime!” 

Finally, the weight in his hands is gone, and before Tony can say another word to keep him there, Eddie turns on his heels and walks as quickly as he can to the entrance of the Breaker Box.

He’s anticipating moans, gasps, maybe even some shushes as the door creaks open. An exaggerated laugh from a white haired man wouldn’t surprise him. But instead, it’s quiet, save for some soft jazz from the stage’s speakers, and the clink of glasses when it sets against the bar.

It’s not reassuring in the least. In fact, it makes him all the more suspicious.

“Ah, darling!” Volt calls across the bar, crossing his legs in the stool. “Made it out unscathed from dear Tony, then?”

Eddie flicks his gaze around the club. He’s searching for flipped chairs, fallen curtains, spilled drinks, and -

Huh. Their live wire isn’t here. Interesting. 

“As much as I could,” Eddie yells back when he shuts the door. As he gets closer to the bar, to the man that sits so smugly, he notices something on Volt’s face.

It’s that fucking smirk. The bane of his fucking existence. 

How many years had it been, since he’d first seen it? Back when he and Volt still slept separately, when they never shared a touch more than when they passed each other behind the bar. He can hardly remember now, at this point, what exactly had made it appear the first time. But Eddie remembers the way his heart had pounded a little harder at the way Volt’s lips turned up, the way it made his eyes flash with something unknown. Something fun. Something thrilling.

It’s a powerful thing, this smirk of Volt’s, this grin that can melt resolve and charm like a song. It’s one of the reasons Eddie felt confident in stepping back from the club - he’d never really had the personality for it. Nor did he have enough control over his expressions to put on a genuine smile when someone leaned a little deeper into the bar, put their face in their hands, and asked sweetly for another round.

Volt was born for it. Made for the little touches to his arm, for the winks from bright white eyes, for the voice that could hypnotize. For lips that could turn in just the right way to keep a patron hanging on his very breath.

Eddie hates how much he loves it.

He grabs the closest bottle he can, pours the liquid into a glass, Volt’s eyes never wavering as he moves.

“Thought they were hanging around tonight?” he asks, leaning against the wood and staring intently at the vodka he’d poured.

“Ah,” Volt breathes as he shifts in the barstool. “They realized they were late for a call, or something.”

He hums, takes a sip, and finally raises his grey eyes to Volt’s.

They’re nearly blinding.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” he groans, blinking at the sight. He’s always on, Volt, always dangerous, high voltage. 

He only glows brighter. “Nothing at all.”

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs. “Alright.”

Volt leans on his elbows across the bar. “Don’t I get a kiss from my darling?”

One of Eddie’s lightning brows quirks high in an arch. “I was gone half an hour.”

“You have to be gone a certain amount of time before I can ask for a kiss?” He makes a little pout, but his eyes don’t dull. 

Eddie sips at the vodka once more before he sighs. Volt wouldn’t let up on this, he knew, and there was very little he could do to dissuade him. He’d learned, quite a long time ago, it was easier not to argue.

He puts down his glass, and starts to learn towards pink lips -

“Why don’t you come round to me?” Volt coos, and his white hot gaze flits over Eddie’s lips. “So I can properly get my hands on you.”

He’s planning something, Eddie realizes.

Wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe he’s right to be suspicious.

He says nothing, and doesn’t drop his gaze from Volt’s as he circles the bar and stops in front of his partner. Volt uncrosses his legs so Eddie can settle between his calves, and when he cups Volt’s face in his, he hums at that familiar warmth and buzz that flows between their skin. His Volt, his whole soul.

Eddie loves him - even if he drives him mad every so often. And he never thinks twice about pressing their lips together.

Their kisses are practiced dances, with moves perfected through the years and remembered more easily than breathing. Eddie knows every ridge of Volt’s lips, every note the sounds of his breath make, every flavor present in the taste of his tongue.

It’s obvious to Eddie when something is different.

And there’s something foreign in this kiss - sweet, potent, intoxicating.

Something that’s his.

Titanium eyes fly open as his tongue flicks over Volt’s. 

Alarm bells flash behind his vision, though they’re not denoting envy, or announcing something has gone. They’re alerting Eddie that his rules have been bent, the line has been blurred, until the two people he loves melded together on one tongue.

“You taste like them.”

It’s nearly a growl when it leaves his throat. It’s raw and gruff and aching and there are no longer any rational thoughts in his mind - there is only the taste, the hints he can find of them on Volt’s tongue.

And he’s so fucking thirsty.

But.

“Why do you taste like them?”

He tries to make his voice a little more level, a little more clipped, as he shifts his eyes to study Volt’s face. White eyes haven’t dimmed a single watt, but even with his kiss-swollen lips, the smile remains.

“I might’ve indulged in a… specialty drink while you were out,” Volt purrs and - this fucking bastard - licks his lips.

Sparks fly in the back of Eddie’s mind at the words, as the wires connect, the breakers flip.

“A speciality drink?” He tightens his hold on Volt’s vest. “That you made at the bar?”

This smirk is going to blind Eddie, one day.

“Naturally.”

It’s like a thunderclap when their lips meet again, when their teeth clash and their tongues slide into each others’ mouths. Like lightning when Eddie’s hands wrap around Volt’s neck, and Volt grips Eddie’s waist. The taste of their live wire is fainter and fainter with every swipe of Eddie’s tongue, but he’s chasing it, he’s hungry for it - any of it.

Volt chuckles into his mouth, his hands sliding up Eddie’s back. The touch burns, even through the layers of his clothes, and he groans when Volt’s nails claw at him. It makes the current in his veins race and buzz faster than light. It makes his head dizzy and heavy - it swims with heat, with want.

There’s a shift of hips, and the stool clatters. Volt barely has time to gather his footing before he’s shoved into the curved wood, his back hitting the bar with a small grunt. Eddie’s teeth tug at his bottom lip, his canines digging into the soft pink and pulling more red, and Volt whimpers, practically whines, at the pleasure that’s tinged with pain. Another sound, something low and pathetic, escapes him when Eddie’s thumb presses into his pulse.

It’s an effort for Eddie to pull himself away to speak, but he’s not strong enough to separate himself more than a hair from Volt’s mouth. “You’re such a fucking piece of work,” he breathes into his mouth. “So fucking desperate for it you couldn’t wait half an hour for me to get back?”

Volt shudders out a breath, hot his face. He tries to follow Eddie’s lips for another kiss, only for the hold on his neck to snap him back. His eyes flicker, hooded with lust, and he rakes his nails even harder into Eddie’s back. “I was thirsty,” he says, with yet another lick of his fucking lips.

Eddie shoves his hips into Volt’s, pinned by the bar, and revels in the resulting gasp - it’s needy and it’s anguished and it’s music to his ears. “You -” Eddie huffs, a sarcastic sigh, “you’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

He wants to slap that fucking smirk off of Volt when it returns. “You already know I am.” Eddie’s head feels impossibly heavier at the sound of Volt’s voice, like he’s three whiskeys deep or two orgasms in, drunk off something that he loves. Despite his moans, he sounds so confident, so teasing, in a way that almost makes it seem like he has some sort of control.

Eddie can’t have that.

His fingers fly to hold Volt’s jaw, tight. Finally, the grin is gone, melted away under his fingers - the flesh of his cheeks so easily gives under his grasp. It makes Volt’s skin pink and red from the pressure, and Eddie can feel the outline of his teeth. He presses tighter still.

“What’d you do, huh?” He tilts his head to study Volt’s expression, how his dark brows scrunch together only a millimeter more at the scrutiny of grey eyes, how his breath hitches almost imperceptibly. “Put them on the bar, hook their thighs over your shoulders?” A corner of Volt’s mouth twitches, and Eddie sighs in understanding. “Oh, no, you had them on the stool, didn’t you? Knelt to your knees on the fucking ground for them?”

A short chuckle falls from Volt’s lips, and he runs his tongue over his top teeth. “It’s not the bar that way, is it?”

There’s anger in the kiss that comes a second later, with teeth and grunts and fingers tugging at Volt’s jaw. But that’s only on the surface, what others might see if they were to catch them. 

For Eddie, for Volt, there’s something deeper, something they’re both after - the taste of each other, and the taste of what’s theirs. Their live wire, their love, their puzzle piece that slots between them and fits so perfectly despite the jagged edges that poke so many others when getting close to Eddie and Volt. Their spark, their heart.

They can never have enough.

When Volt grinds into Eddie’s hips - a cocky, greedy little thing - Eddie can’t force his body around fast enough, shoving his stomach down to the bar with a hard exhale. He’s so warm under Eddie’s hands, his skin burning with their current and dripping with want. He can read Volt like a book, one he wrote himself, and he knows exactly the sounds, the shudders, that he can give to Eddie, whether he wants to or not.

So it’s no surprise when he arches his back a little more, and sighs a little heavier, preening under Eddie’s hands.

Eddie expected as much.

“And you thought, what?” he says as he leans over the mess of white bolts. He fists a handful of them, relishing the way they spark and glow around his hand, and holds it hard, steady. “That I wouldn’t know? With your fucking shit eating grin,” he yanks, and Volt gasps, “and their cum on your lips?”

Volt doesn’t answer, he only groans in the back of his throat until it turns into a laugh. “You - you would’ve known regardless,” he says through grit teeth, his white eyes trying to find Eddie in the corner of his vision. “Wouldn’t you?”

Eddie’s fingers itch. Without a word, they find the buckle of Volt’s belt, the zip of his trousers, deftly opening it all before palming his half-mast cock. The touch makes Volt hiss and Eddie hum, both of them falling into step with this dance they’ve spent years choreographing. He wraps his fingers around Volt’s length and collects the pre dripping from the head with his thumb. 

Volt bucks into him - he can’t help it, Eddie knows he can’t, but the sparks in mind are building and bursting into flames, consuming all parts of him except the urge to take. Take what’s his, this pleasure that Volt claimed for himself while Eddie was talking to that fucking tool. It belongs to him, doesn’t it? Every gasp, from both his partners, every moan, every kiss - they were his.

“You’re so fucking greedy,” he taunts in Volt’s ear when he pumps one fist over his cock and tightens the other in his hair. “You flirt and you flaunt and have two fucking partners -” Volt’s jaw goes slack with a whine at that, “but you’re never gonna be satisfied, are you?”

It’s a debased sort of mewl Eddie gets in response, as Volt’s nails claw at the dark wood before they dig into the flesh of his palms. 

“Say it.” Tighter, more insistent tugs from his fists.

Volt’s eyes roll back in his head, his cheek pressing even harder into the bar. “I - fuck, Eddie -”

“Volt.” It’s a command, his name on Eddie’s tongue, and there can be no argument.

Volt knows. Of course he does - he drools over it, shivers at it, bucks his hips to beg for more. For Eddie. “N-no,” he stammers as Eddie’s thumb slides over his slit. “No I - won’t be, oh - please -”

Eddie, much as he likes to pretend he is, isn’t immune to the sound of Volt’s pleas. How desperate, how depraved, how aching they are, this music of Eddie’s favorite melody. He, too, can never be satisfied, not until he pulls every single note from Volt’s throat, until he’s raw and hoarse and delirious from Eddie’s name on his lips.

He’ll never tell Volt that, though.

“Please, what?” He quickens his pace on Volt’s cock, lowering his voice into nearly a growl. It’s a tone that always makes Volt practically scream if he’s close enough - just like now.

His cheeks flush with a blue tinge and fuck, Eddie thinks, he’s so beautiful. “P-please.” Volt’s breath is ragged, without any rhythm or reason. “Please, can I - can I cum, Eddie, please -”

It’s not a full immunity that Eddie possesses.

But it’s fucking close.

Which is why he’s able to drop both of his fists from Volt’s skin and hair without a second thought, and step back in a flash.

The resulting whine and tremble of Volt’s body makes Eddie fight back a grin and lick his lips. Volt slams his hands against the bar, guttural and wretched sounds clawing out of his throat between huffs of breath. “Eddie -”

“Volt,” Eddie stops him. Volt whimpers at the tone when he starts to lift his chest off the wood. “You aren’t going to get me that easily.”

“But darling -”

“No.” He shoves his hands in his pockets to hammer home his point. “You knew it’d be like this.” The sparks in his brain crackle in such a satisfying way as he watches Volt try to stand and balance himself against the wood. “So this is what you get. To go through the entire shift as wound up as you are, and maybe, maybe, I’ll think about letting you cum tonight.”

When Volt turns around, with his cock still hard and dripping and his cheeks still blue, Eddie steps back to him, and grabs his face just as he had when they kissed. White eyes flash with frustration, but underneath it, the wanton need is clear as day, the silent begging that’s reserved only for Eddie. 

“Can you show me you’ll be good?” he whispers against Volt’s open lips, lightning brows high on his forehead. “At least while we have a fucking audience?”

It’s a pitiful, eager nod that Volt gives him, one Eddie doesn’t see too often - he soaks in the sight while he can get it. “Yes,” Volt swallows down a gasp. “Yes, Eddie.”

Now Eddie nods, slow and tempered. He can’t let it show that his fingers still itch. “Then be. Good.”

It’s a practiced dance, how the two of them move. A choreography that never requires words or instruction, one that their bodies could perfect even in their sleep. It’s something that makes Eddie’s fingers itch and his circuits fry.